


Short People Got Somebody To Love

by Mackem



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Hand Jobs, Height Kink, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-26
Updated: 2012-09-26
Packaged: 2017-11-15 02:49:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mackem/pseuds/Mackem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik watches and admires.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Short People Got Somebody To Love

**Author's Note:**

> So, maybe I saw a certain new X-Men film recently, and maybe it bowled me over. So I jumped into the [X-Men: First Class kink meme](http://1stclass-kink.livejournal.com//) and found a prompt I bloody love:
> 
> [Charles/Erik height difference: Erik gets off on Charles being smaller than him.](http://1stclass-kink.livejournal.com/2292.html?thread=1439988#t1439988)
> 
> So I decided it needed filling.

Erik watches Charles avidly as he speaks to Hank across the library, his expression so earnest it almost hurts to watch. The content of their conversation is unclear, although Erik is willing to guess Charles is imparting some life lesson about control or truth or serenity to his pupil. His _other_ pupil; Erik is well aware that he is as firmly beneath Charles’ wing as these children are.

The conversation itself, however, is not what interests Erik. Far more enticing is the physical comparison drawn between the two men as they stand close together. Hank, with his gangly limbs, his slightly awkward posture, his _height_ , is everything Charles is not.

Charles is…petite. Charles’s body is trim, graceful and deliberate in his movements. Charles is, when it comes to it, smaller than almost everybody else they know. 

Erik cannot help but enjoy this.

He lounges against the wall as he watches his friend speak softly, drinking in everything Charles offers without realising he is doing so. Those shining eyes are warm and welcoming as he shares some insight with Hank, his small hands gesturing neatly to illustrate his point. He seems entirely focussed on Hank, smiling in encouragement when the boy makes his hesitant reply, and yet Erik feels the brush of a foreign consciousness against his own. Nothing is asked, there are no glances his way, and yet his curiosity is plain within Erik’s mind as he withdraws. Erik has been noticed.

It is to Charles’ credit that the attention does not affect him outwardly. He remains intent upon Hank, solidly ignoring Erik even as the younger man eventually notices him in some surprise. Erik issues an idle salute and gestures for them to continue, folding his arms comfortably. Hank seems hesitant, his train of thought apparently stuttering once he realises they have company, but Charles squeezes his upper arm with a delicate hand and raises his voice a little to say firmly, “Whatever Erik requires will wait. You had my attention first, Hank. You were saying?” This suits Erik fine. He likes a show.

Their conversation continues in muted voices as Erik watches openly, drinking in the way Charles becomes more animated as it progresses. Hank seems to be making a suggestion of sorts, with Charles encouraging him; the verbal details escape Erik, yet the way Charles must raise his head a little to meet Hank’s eyes stands out vividly.

Eventually, as is Charles’ wont, he glances around the library. “Actually, I have a book you may be interested in,” he says, and crosses the room with a bright, eager stride. He does not so much as glance at Erik as he moves, his eyes scanning the bookcases until he halts in front of one. 

Erik watches closely, so closely as Charles reaches up to pull down a book above his head. A hand clings to the shelf to support him as he rises onto his toes, his slim frame pressed against the books as he leans up, legs spread and back arched just a little. Erik feels himself holding his breath as he watches, unable to ignore the delicious details of his struggle; how the top of his head barely passes the second shelf down, the way his tip-toed stance presents his backside, how he strains to reach the title he wants.

Immaculate fingernails scrabble at the book in question until he finally has it within his grasp, and Erik cannot help but notice the muted noise of triumph he produces as it is retrieved. “Here,” Charles says in satisfaction, and he hands it to Hank with a brilliant smile. “I think you’ll find this illuminating. I’d be more than happy to discuss it with you, when you’re ready.”

“Thanks, professor,” Hank says with a hesitant smile, and Erik watches him leave with the book in his hands and a weight removed from his shoulders. 

“Well?” 

Erik returns his attention to Charles, unable to stop a small grin playing across his lips. “Well, what?” 

Charles laughs. “Well, are you going to explain why I cannot have a conversation without you monitoring me?”

“You think I’m eavesdropping, Charles?”

“I think you’re watching me,” Charles counters, bemusement clouding the lively blue of his eyes. Erik chuckles and unfolds himself from the wall to stride closer.

“And I think you were nosing around in my mind. Always so presumptuous. You don’t know why I’m watching?” he asks, his voice low as he approaches. Charles is left trapped between the bookcases and Erik’s oncoming form and, to Erik’s delight, his reaction is merely to remain still and smile mildly.

“You aren’t the only one who can watch and not listen. I didn’t go so far as to extract details. Merely far enough to get the distinct impression that there is something about me,” Charles murmurs, blinking affably up at Erik in a way that makes his heart pound, “That you particularly enjoy.”

“So modest,” Erik snorts, and rests his hands upon those slim shoulders. He squeezes a little, as they have both done before, but refuses to withdraw his touch, to pull away and pretend that it is innocent. “And yet you sell yourself short.”

“Do I.” Erik walks forward, Charles moves backward in tandem, and both smile lazily when Charles is pressed against his bookshelves, his head craning up naturally to keep their eyes locked. 

“You do. There are _many_ things about you that I particularly enjoy,” Erik says, his voice low as he gazes down at his friend. “Though I have found myself focussed on one in particular.”

“Enlighten me,” Charles half-orders, and those pink, plush lips spread into a smirk as Erik acts; moves his hands to grasp Charles’ wrists, so frail and delicate, and to press them above his head, spreading his thighs with an insistent movement of his knee and pinning him the way he wants. Charles yields easily against his touches, does not struggle, and Erik cannot help the surge of desire that this brings. From the wicked smile on Charles’ face, he knows he has been noticed again. 

“You are very small,” he explains softly, and if his hips rock against Charles’ at that moment, he is not ashamed. Charles chuckles in return, twists his slender body a little to surge closer, and both close their eyes as their lips meet. Erik cannot stop himself from unbuckling Charles’ belt without releasing his hands, smirking as Charles’ eyebrows rise when his belt loosens and his trousers unzip themselves.

“I see. I can only hope your comments refer to my height?” Erik drinks in his expression - the eyes so vivid, teasing, the fevered grin spreading across lips slightly swollen, the upturn of his face as he looks up at Erik. 

“I enjoy that you are smaller than me,” Erik growls. His own trousers are unfastened, and he smirks as Charles glances down, sighs happily, and raises his eyes. His rather obvious excitement is appreciated, it seems, not to mention returned.

“I thought as much.”

Erik arches an eyebrow. “Yes? Now you say you knew?”

“Honestly, Erik,” Charles laughs, his head dropping back against the books behind him with a soft _thunk_. “Normally I would use a footstool to fetch a book that high.” Erik gasps, pushes closer, releases the slim wrists to rest one hand at his hip and guide his chin further up the other.

“Your librarian act was for my benefit, then?”

“I believe it benefited us both,” Charles corrects with a smirk of his own, and Erik does not believe he could stop himself from kissing Charles were his life on the line.

The sex is not graceful, nor particularly dignified, but Erik takes great satisfaction in seeing and feeling Charles writhe against him as they rut roughly together, both aware anybody could stumble across them and neither particularly caring. Erik leans against him, supporting himself with an arm pressed firmly across Charles’ chest as he takes both aching lengths in his hand at the same time and works them both. Charles has both arms clinging around Erik in his turn, legs spread and back arched and his teeth worrying his lower lip whenever Erik releases his mouth, alternately hissing whispers of encouragement and enjoyment and ridiculous warnings to “mind the books, please”. 

They do not come together. Charles spills first, covering Erik’s hand and spattering his undershorts, but Erik does not climax until he has seen Charles slump, flushed and ruffled and so _small_ against him, then drop to his knees and take Erik’s leaking prick into his mouth. Charles looks up at him as he sucks, his heated gaze fixed unblinking upon his own as he folds his form up before him, and that is Erik’s undoing.

Erik drags Charles back to his feet afterwards. He is manhandled into Erik’s arms, long limbs held tight around him as Erik nuzzles at the top of his head and holds him close, breathing him in and holding him safe. Charles almost seems to melt in return, wriggling until he stands with his head pressed against Erik’s chest, arms around him. Silence falls, until nagging doubt takes hold of Erik’s mouth.

“Do you think me strange, Charles?”

“Mmm?” Charles pulls away a little, rests his weight against Erik’s supporting arms as if he belongs in his grasp, and grins lazily. “Oh, Erik, I think no such thing. I think you…protective. Forward, certainly. Most unlike the rest of the world.” He has been different all his life, and hideously alone with it, and yet this man - this petite creature that fits so perfectly in his arms - manages to make this sound wonderful. He laughs softly in the face of a beautiful, fragile smile, wondering how Charles can make him relax without even trying.

“Different. Then you believe I am a deviant?” Erik suggests with a grin.

“Deviant, my friend,” Charles laughs, and leans up to whisper against his lips, “And proud.”


End file.
